The Five of the Magic Sword
by april243
Summary: Merlin received a prophecy stating that a dark age was coming, and five children, each with one extreme sense would be the ones to stop it. Now, eons later, someone buys Amun Academy. 5 kids receive acceptance letters to Anubis House… Can they save themselves from the Dark Druids who want their senses for evil? Can the 5 stop the darkness before it's too late…? [More info inside]
1. Prologue: The Beginning

**_PLEASE READ!_**

**_Hallo, allemaal! It's me, April243!_**

**_*boos are heard throughout the fandom*_**

**_Oooooh… Yes. I'm an ass, I know. I have come to bring you this story! If anyone watches Het Huis Anubis, you will know what this story is sort of about. For those who don't, I am loosely basing this story off De Vijf Van Het Magisch Zwaard/De Vijf Zintuigen, meaning the Five of the Magic Sword and the Five Senses. This show was the spinoff of the original and went on for two seasons. This was a really good spinoff and I wanted to bring this to an English speaking audience!_**

**_Again, this is loosely based off it and much of this will be of my own making (including the characters' names). Canon characters will show up throughout the entire span of this story so keep your eyes peeled!_**

_Without further a due, _**The Five of the Magic Sword! **

**_—April243_**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Prologue<span>**

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A group of young men galloped across the countryside, wet earth thrown up by the hooves of their steads. Soon, they slowed down. Pulling back on their reigns, they approached the clearing in which a dull grey stone sat, lumped and low to the ground.

An old man with a snow-white beard and a flowing robe stood close to its base, waiting patiently for the young men to dismount their horses and join the circle around the stone.

When they did, the old man bent stiffly to pick up a gleaming sword with magnificent dipiction of battle carved in rich wood on the hilt.

He held it to his chest and the men knelt before it.

"Knights of King Arthur, on this day I received a prophecy from the Lord our God," the old man began, his voice strong but frayed with age. "He told of a dark age— many millennium to come. A dark age when evil will come to rule the earth, spreading darkness over it!"

One man stood up, throwing back his helmet onto the ground.

"Merlin! How can this be?" he demanded, fear begining to shine in his blue eyes. "The Lord would never let evil rule! He sacrificed himself for peace!"

Though no other knight stood, several murmured in agreement.

Merlin sighed defeatedly and turned the tip of the blade into his palm, slicing it open. He cupped the blood in his hand and knelt by the stone's base, placing the sword horizontally in front of him.

"I could never fool you, Galahad, could I?" he said grimly, dipping his fingers into his pool of blood.

Galahad and the other Knights watched as Merlin drew five circles—all interlocking— on the stone. When he was finished, each one began to glow fiercely in its own color: the circle that claimed the top glowed white hot; one on the right side of the ring of rings shined a soft blue; the right bottom-hand gleamed a deep green; the left bottom hand gave off a turquoise hue, so gentle it made the Knights knees go weak; the last ring burned an excellent, fiery red.

"Your God has not sent me this prophecy…"

"Then _who, _Merlin_?" _begged Bors the Young.

"Yes…" Mordred smirked, his voice laced with spite and malice. "Who?"

Merlin sighed again as a breeze tugged at his robes and thin beard. "I do not know…"

Cries of outrage came from the Knights as they stood, shouting at him.

He raised his hand for silence. No one took heed.

"SILENCE!" the wizard cried, his voice echoing off the trees. The clearing grew still.

Merlin shut his eyes, picked up the sword and began to speak…

_"There will be a dark time, millennium from this day and age…_

_"Evil will rule all, and death will be abundant throughout the known worlds…_

_"Five children— each gifted with sensitivity in one of their five senses: Sight, Smell, Taste, Touch, and Sound— will rise to oppose this darkness…_

_"Dark Druids will seek out these Saviors, equipped to recruit them for their wicked ways…_

_"They will win from evil's power if they are not swayed…"_

Merlin trailed off, his eyes still shut. He lifted the sword above his head, the sharp tip facing the dead center of the stone.

_"This Sword of Light will guide them on their journey to Salvation…"_

With a mighty thrust of his arms, Merlin plunged the sword into the stone, blinding light pouring from it like a flood. A deluge of spiraling, gory, silent images filtered in and out of the Knights' visions:

A young lady clutching an even smaller lady— a child, really— covered in blood and sobbing hysterically. A boy thrusting a dagger into an older woman's forearm, black liquid oozing from the wound as she screamed in furious silent agony. A young lady holding a spherical object that glowed almost as brightly as the light from the sword as ice formed around her body, face frozen in an empty smile while a boy screamed desperately at someone unseen, mouth forming the words "Stop! Stop! It's killing her! Stop!"

The Knights of King Arthur's Court shuddered and turned their eyes away as the last horrid scenes finished their play, and the light dimmed.

Merlin still stood, hands clamped firmly on the hilt of the gleaming weapon. He stayed there, silent for several minutes and no one spoke.

Then the wizard began again, solemn and firm,

_"All of this will come to pass…_

_Nothing will be as it was, and never will it be again…"_

* * *

><p>June 2, 2016<p>

The man's shoes made an important-sounding click as he strode down the corridors of Amun Academy. He wore a well-pressed suit with not a single wrinkle to be seen. He was also bald, and his head was so shiny it caught the light in such a way that it blinded many of the students.

A group of seventh graders gave the polite greeting, "Good afternoon" when he looked in their direction for a breif moment. He scoffed and continued walking down the hall.

One of the seniors of Amun Academy, Cassie Tate, visibly bristled at the man's condescending attitude toward the "sevies," as everyone called the rambunctious children of year seven.

"Who put a bug in his tea?" her friend, Erin Blakewood, asked, shutting her locker and pushing her black hair behind her ears.

Cassie shrugged. "I don't know… but I don't like him very much…"

Erin laughed and tugged on her best friend's arm. "You don't like anybody, silly!"

It had been four years since the Touchstone was found and the Pyramid of Ra had been assembled. Four years since the Osirian sacrificed himself to save the world from destruction. Four years since the Anubis House children graduated.

But in exactly two and a half weeks, the new Anubis House children would graduate, bringing forth the next children on the waiting list, and the cycle would repeat again four years after that…

At least, that was the original plan.

But, you see, as Erin and Cassie walked off down the corridor to talk to Dexter Lloyd by his locker, we move on to the more pressing matters at hand— the man in Eric Sweet's office…

"B–But, Mr. Kij. How can it be that you've _bought the school?" _Mr. Sweetstuttered out, flustered and startled. "I– I– I don't know where to begin on—"

The man held up a smooth hand, small dark brown eyes never blinking. "I have always wanted to run a school, Eric. And now that I have bought one, I can," he explained creamily, not really answering the question.

Mr. Sweet went over the papers again, eyes skimming feverishly over the neatly typed print.

"… of course this means I am to be hiring all new staff, so I'm afraid, Eric that this will be your last few weeks of being headmaster," the man continued, no sympathy in his voice at all.

Eric Sweet's blood ran cold. "You're firing me?" he asked weakly.

Mr. Kij's face was grim, but Mr. Sweet could see the satisfaction in his beady eyes. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Once this term is over, I will be appointing my choice of headmaster into your position."

"But you can't do this!"

"I can, Eric, and I have," Mr. Kij suddenly snarled, jerking forward in his seat. Then he smoothed out again and leaned back. "It's all just bussiness— nothing personal."

But Eric Sweet only nodded numbly. He was leaving.

But this was only the begining…

* * *

><p>August 5, 2016<p>

Five children recived a letter that day, all saying the same thing:

_Dear applicant,_

_We have written you to inform you of your exceptance into Amun Academy._

_Out of several other applications, we have accepted yours and four others to be part of our _Quinque Sensuum_ scholarship._

_We cannot wait to have you with us this school term!_

_Sincerely,_

_Johan Kij_

All five children had very different reactions.

The first child was sitting on her bed, surrounded by mountains of plush toys— the most worn one sitting on her lap—as she opened her letter, iPhone to ear on a call from her mother at work.

She read the letter aloud to her.

" 'We cannot wait to see you this school term. Sincerely, Johan Kij…' Mum, I don't know if I should accept this! I don't know if I want to leave home all year! I don't want to leave my friends!"

"… Darling, this is a chance to make some… real friends…" her mother said uncertainly.

She tightened the phone in her grip, gloves creasing. She could feel the phone grown hot through the thick material. "What do you mean, Mother?" she asked stiffly.

Her mother sighed. "Real friends, Sofie! Not stuffed animals!"

The child shut her eyes tightly then opened them again and fixed her glasses on her nose.

She took a deep breath, then answered.

"Fine… I'll accept."

The second child was in the storeroom of his family's diner, banging out some sweet rhythms with the carrot sticks on the barrels.

He leapt out into the kitchen when he grew bored.

"HellO, everybody!" he greeted loudly, cupping his ear to hear the chorus of returning greetings from the kitchen workers— which never came— and bouncing about the room energetically, tasting from random pots.

With each taste, his mouth became a detective service, discovering every single tiny seperate ingredient in the food. He relished it.

When the child bounced up to the head chef, she pulled down an envelope with his name on it.

"Aw, thanks, Mama, I love you! Woah, swag— fancy paper!" he exclaimed sliding out the letter.

His mother groaned. "Michael , why do you always talk like an American white boy? What's the matter with you?"

The boy ignored it and began to read his letter.

" 'pǝɐɹ ɐddlıɔɐuʇ'

ʍǝ ɥɐʌǝ ʍɹıʇʇǝu ʎon ʇo ıuɟoɹ—' Well, I don't know what language they're speaking, but I don't understand it!" he informed the head chef.

She sighed dramatically and flipped the letter around. "This might help, dear."

The boy's mouth formed an "o" while he read it silently. Then it grew into a grin.

"YES! YES, THIS IS IT! I'M OFF ON AN ADVENTURE!"

The third child had her letter read off to her. She sat up in her bed, lifting the protective eyewear from her face, only to have her eyes burn from the light. She put them back on quickly.

"Ex. Cuse. Me. I'm not leaving my home, my tutor, my entire life just to go to some school for poor people because I received a scholarship! I don't even remember applying!"

The man reading it, the butler, took a deep breath, mustering patience. "Miss, your father said he demands you go to experience life in the real world."

The child scoffed, laying back down. "Tell him to kiss my tush—I'm not going."

A voice rang out from the doorway to her massive bedroom. Her father.

"Oh yes, Anne. You most certainly are."

The fourth child was playing the piano when his father placed the letter in front of his sheet music.

"You've gotten in, boy. You've gotten the scholarship," his father announced.

The boy didn't answer, but he heard him. He heard everything. Even the headphones that constantly pressed into his ears couldn't keep it out.

His father lifted one headphone, heightening the sounds of everyday life, and shouted into his ear,

"DID YOU HEAR ME?"

The child let out a small cry of pain as the shout practically blew his eardrums clean out of his head and into space. He nodded, picking up the letter and skimming it.

"That's… exciting?" he offered, placing his hands back on the piano keys.

"Exciting?! It's more than exciting! It's magnificent! You'll get a wonderful education here, Ronnie! You'll actually make something of yourself!"

The boy just put his hands to work on the piano, letting the music dominate the preaching of his father.

The fifth child sat down to work at his desk, reading the letter as he settled into his chair. He smiled in satisfaction and turned on his recorded diary to place in his newest entry.

"Dear Recorder,

I made it in. I got the scholarship! I resolve to climb my way to the top of all my classes and stay away from friends.

This is it— this is when I make it or break it.

I'm going to do everything I can to be my very best.

Yours,

Peter"

He turned off the recording, and he leaned back in his seat. The faint smell of dog poop from the park across town hit his nose. It was rancid.

He took the two nose stoppers and stuck them deep into his nostrils. The smell disappeared.

"This is it," he repeated, fingering the corners of the letter. "This is where I make it or break it…"

What these five children didn't know was the danger they were about to step into, and how much it would cost them to get out of it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>if you have any questions regarding this story, just ask me. I'll be happy to answer!<strong>_

_**REVIEW! ;D**_


	2. Chapter 1: Sofie's Arrival

**_PLEASE READ!_**

**_"Hallo, allemaal! It's me, April243!_**

**_*boos are heard throughout the fandom*_**

**_Oooooh… Yes. I'm an ass, I know. I have come to bring you this story! If anyone watches Het Huis Anubis, you will know what this story is sort of about. For those who don't, I am loosely basing this story off De Vijf Van Het Magisch Zwaard/De Vijf Zintuigen, meaning the Five of the Magic Sword and the Five Senses. This show was the spinoff of the original and went on for two seasons. This was a really good spinoff and I wanted to bring this to an English speaking audience!_**

**_Again, this is loosely based off it and much of this will be of my own making (including the characters' names). Canon characters will show up throughout the entire span of this story so keep your eyes peeled!"_**

**_^ That was last time's author's note, and I am still an ass. But here it is! Chapter 1. This chapter revolves around one of our main characters, and I am sure by the end of it, you'll know what sense she is._**

**_I really encourage you to give this story a chance! It will have some familiar faces popping up soon, so stay tuned for that. I don't really know what else to say, so…_**

_**Without** **further a due, **_**The Five of the Magic Sword! **

**_—April243_**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 1<span>**

**Sofie Witt**

September 2, 2016

"MUM! MUM! MUUUUUUUUM! DEAREST MOTHER!"

"WHAT?!"

"HAVE YOU SEEN MOUSE? I CAN'T FIND HIM!"

"GOD DAMN, SOFIE! I PUT HIM IN YOUR SUITCASE! NOW COME ON! THE CAB IS _WAITING_!"

This is a normal conversation between mother and daughter. They don't often get along, you see, and her mother never understands Sofie or how she feels… especially not how she feels.

She takes one last look around her room, taking everything in for the last time before she went to boarding school for heaven knows how long. Sofie waves a sad goodbye to her "arsenal of stuffed animals," as her father calls them ( he's incorrect; they are her friends ) and turns, walks out, and shuts the door behind her, making sure to jiggle the knob up to shut it all the way. Sofie hears the click, and knows she's started her grand adventure.

She rushes down the stairs, grabbing an apple from the kitchen for the ride. Bursting out her front door, she runs to the black cab on the corner. Her dad has his stopwatch out.

"It took her exactly 6 minutes and 26 seconds to get out here, Elizabeth," he reports to Sofie's mother who lets out a snort of impatient laughter from her window seat in the back of the cab on the passenger side. "3 minutes and 34 seconds less than your prediction!"

Sofie sighs and hops in the cab next to her mum. She only assumes her dad has put the bags in the back of the cab already. The brunette turns around in her seat, just to be certain, and there is the light brown suit case, sitting there in the back. She turns back around and buckles in, adjusting the glasses perched on her nose.

She is in the middle… again. Stuffed into the tiny seat that really shouldn't exist, but it does anyway, and the smallest person always gets stuck in there— you know what she means, tiny people out there.

Her dad gets in and shuts the heavy black door behind him. Telling the driver the address of Amun Academy which is quite far away— a four hour drive, to be exact.

Sofie settles back in her seat as comfortably as she can, since she is squished awkwardly between her parents. Sofie's terribly anoying curly brown hair gets tangled in her mother's earing and there is a big argument that follows. The drive will be agonizingly slow— Sofie can feel it.

She fiddles with her gloves to pass the time. They are a maroon color and cover her entire hand except for a diamond patch on the top that shows some of the skin. Sofie hasn't taken them off for 11 years. She want to desperately, but she never dares. Her mother sees her playing with them and slaps her hands hard.

"What did I say?" she demands, giving her sensitive daughter an angry stare.

The fourteen year old winces, but it's not the first time that Elizabeth Witt has gotten angry with her for playing with the gloves.

You see, Sofie was an… odd child, you could say. From a very young age she had extremely sensitive skin on her hands. They were likely to burn in contact with light; the skin would often crack ( quite literally ) below 0 degrees Celsius, having it be just as painful as it sounds. That was when she got the gloves to protect them, and everything began to get stranger.

Sofie could still feel everything through the gloves: the cold, fluffy touch of snow, the smooth wood of a desk at school, the crisp breeze on her hands during the autumn months— all as if she didn't have the gloves on at all. It was weird for, though Sofie wasn't aware, this was how normal people felt physical things. Without the gloves… well…

Age six was the only time she ever took the protective layer off to do anything but rub the soothing ointment on. It was November 14th, her birthday, and Sofie had invited a few her classmates to a small backyard party. Her mother had booked a Curious Creatures to come to the party, and it was marvelous, for a little while at least. When it came time to pet the animals, Sofie's parents were getting the cake ready inside the house. Everyone else was stroking the soft bunny or patting the shell of a turtle with their bare hands.

Sofie, at the time, was too young to understand the true severity of her sense; she felt it unfair for her to wear tight fitting gloves ( which were a nice blue pair then ) all the time while her classmates finger painted pretty Suns and flowers, getting their hands all messy. So, to defy her oddity, she took off the gloves.

The thick material felt amazing as it slide off her hands. But soon the bitter wind of November struck her delicate skin and it began to tingle and burn with intense cold. Six-Year-Old-Sofie refused to put them on again ( to prove a ridiculous point, as many six year olds tend to try ), and went to stroke the bunny rabbit. It's soft fur was indescribable, possibly the most wonderful thing she'd ever touched.

This was possibly the only good thing that came from the experience, for the next thing was positively nightmarish.

Sofie, with her long fine curls blowing behind her, went next to the snake. The wind still lashed at her hands, making her want to cry, but she _had_ to pet the snake with her bare hands. Reaching out, the little girl used her thumb to touch the back of the snakes head where she was directed.

She then began to scream, for a sudden flurry of strange emotions that did not belong to her were sent up into her body— irritation, boredom, and hunger were the ones that stood out the most.

Everyone rushed to see why she was screaming. They all just assumed it was because her little hands were pink, raw, cracked, and bleeding…

The party dispersed quickly after that.

But it wasn't just her skin, it was everything about her that sent off "weirdo." She could tell how you felt just by placing a bare hand on you, which she almost never did.

She found out this gift at age 10 when her father was giving her te special cream and she touched his arm by accident.

Sofie felt an odd defeated feeling from his very soul and felt instantly sad. She drew her hand away a thought,

_Is it because I'm a freak?_

A freak. That was what her year five class called her. They didn't call her that to her face, but she wasn't deaf; it made her very sad.

One morning, Mrs. Cost had her back turned to the class, writing down the measure of meters in kilometers, when a note began to travel across the room. Some kids giggled, signed it, and passed it on gladly to the next person. Others had kinder hearts and only passed it on to be rid of it, not signing their names. When it reached Sofie, she got out a pen just in case she wanted to sign _her_ name at the bottom.

She stopped dead as she read it, grip tightening on the writing utensil.

_You are a stupid freak, Sofie._

_~ Sarah W., Lalani, Darcy, Erin D., Bobby, Harry, Sarah F., Christopher, Benjamin, Xavier, Erin G., Alex, Laurel, Veronica, Maxwell_

Now to Sofie, this was just the beginning. Of course it was a dumb insult to the teenage Sofie, and she could probably have come up with a good counter attack, but to the younger version of herself it was terrible. She turned the other cheek for this one, throwing it away. She said nothing to the other 12 notes, each one nastier than the next, that landed on her desk the following weeks. But each one was a blow.

By the end of the year, just a month after she had gotten her circular, wire-rimmed glasses that made her face look chubby, there was "The Sofie Touch" going around. If she bumped into a classmate, that person would quickly run to the next kid, rub it off on them and cross there fingers, shrieking "You've got 'The Sofie Touch!' "

Sofie just held her head high and walked on.

The very same year, she met Mouse. Mouse was her very best friend in the whole wide world. He was also a stuffed cat. But it didn't matter. She took him everywhere she went. She put him in her bag for school. No one ever found it.

School only took a flat line from there; the notes never stopped, all the way to eigth year. Sofie didn't make many friends. Sometimes, she'd have a girl named Iris over to her house, but soon even Iris joined the Sofphobics.

Now she here, a few hours away from high school. She hoped with all her heart that this could be a new starting point for her.

The Witt family sees the sign before they see the school:

_Amun Academy_

_Virtute, Castitate, Idem_

The cab driver drives past the school and a few students, faces curious and tired, peer in. They wear gray sweaters or maroon blazers.

Sofie decides she will wear the blazer to match her gloves, as they drive by.

They reach the house and pull up by the stone brick wall. She does not look at the house yet, gazing instead into the back of the trunk, desperate to get her things and be out of the crowded black cab.

When her suitcase and bags are out of the trunk, Sofie turns to her parents. Her mother fusses about her, primping her hair, straightening her collar and other such things.

Elizabeth Witt asks again if Sofie wants to have them come inside, and again Sofie shakes her head. "I'll be fine," she says and gives her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Then Walter Witt steps forward and wraps his daughter in a tight hug. "I love you, darling," he whispers softly in her ear.

Even without touching him without the gloves, she knows his emotions, for she feels them too.

Then, they get in the cab again. Waving goodbye as they drive away, Sofie stands with her back to the house in which she'll be residing in.

The cab disappears around a turn, and Sofie is alone. She takes a deep breath and turns around to look at her new home.

The old walls are beautiful, but so thickly covered in ivy, Sofie cannot tell if it is made of brick or wood or both. A sign above the front steps reads _Anubis House. _Sofie begins to walk up the path and as she draws forward, she can see that the house is made of both wood and stone.

This seems to be the only house that was not renovated when the school changed owners. It must have been an agreement that needed to be followed on some contract.

Probably historical, Sofie decides, grasping the knocker. She recoils swiftly, a strangled screech erupting from her lips. The knocker falls with a bang as an agonizing pain shoots up her arm and into her chest. Sofie stumbles backward and trips down the steps.

_Bump, bump, thunk!_

She sits on the ground— half stunned— with her stricken hand held limply by her chest. Then everything begins to hurt, including her butt and she begins to cry. Sofie takes several deep breaths, desperate to control her heart while she shakes her hand out, the pain dulling, tears streaming down her face as she lets out a small final wail to silence the crying.

The door creaks open to a woman's face peering out. She surveys Sofie who is still on the ground, and, not saying a word about her blotchy face or postion, the woman throws the door open the rest of the way.

"Sofie Witt, welcome!" she exclaims, rushing out, lifting her up off the path, and pulling her tightly into a hug. Then, she pushes Sofie out to arms length. "My name is Arlene— your housemother. And we are to be amazing friends!" She pulls her into a hug again. "You don't know how _happy _I am to have to here with us…" Arlene whispers, rather ominously— though Sofie gives her the benefit of the doubt, and brushes it off— and squeezes her tighter.

The woman has medium length blonde hair that comes to a pretty curl at the end. Sofie tries to grab a glimpse at her face to get a good look at it, but all she sees is a dark streak of movement from Arlene's eyes as she moves her head quickly again.

"I'm happy to be here too—" Sofie starts to say before, as quick as lightning, Arlene takes out a camera and snaps a photo of the brunette. "—what?"

Arlene gives a titter and shows Sofie the picture. She has a startled expression on her face— wide brown eyes behind crooked glasses, curly hair frizzed up and wild, mouth opened like she's about to start whistling. She looks terrible.

"Why—?"

"A before and after picture, darling," says Arlene as she shuts off the camera.

She puts an arm around Sofie's back and takes her suitcase.

"My goodness! Love, is this _all_ you've brought?" Arlene exclaims lightly, guiding Sofie up the stairs and into the hallway.

The teen just nods, still seeing the little rectangle of light from the flash in her vision. "Yes…? I don't need much, do I?"

Arlene shakes her head, smiling with her eyes crinkled. "No, no. You'll be f— _Trudy_!" Her voice changes to one of slight irritation and the hand drops from her back. "What are you _still doing here_?!"

The other woman stands up and begins defending herself.

"I'm simply retrieving the last few of my belongings and biding farewell to the house. Is that an issue?"

"No… No, I suppose not…"

Sofie can only stand there, barely listening to the conversation. _What the hell is going on? _she wonders, coming back into focus only when the woman— Trudy— starts to address Sofie directly.

Having turned from Arlene, Trudy faces her with a tight expression.

"I'm Trudy," she introduces, flustered and with a bitter lining to her words. "I— I was the previous housemother here before— before the change of owners…"

The dark skinned woman gives a subtle look toward Arlene, and Arlene's face morphs into a soft expression, dark eyes brimming with sympathy. "Well, Trudy… It isn't my fault that they dismissed, dear. I'm sure you were an _amazing_ housewife!" the blonde replies gently, placing a hand on Trudy's arm. The other woman jerks away.

Sofie feels a twinge of sympathy for Trudy; that was a nasty blow from Arlene, even if the new house mother didn't mean anything by it. Sofie doesn't think she did, simply because Arlene seemed genuinely sorry for Trudy.

"I'm trying so hard to be patient with you," Trudy begins shutting her eyes and taking a deep breath, "but we both know you only got this job because you're a close friend to Mr. Kij. You don't know anything about children; I do. Someday, when you show your true colors, Arlene, they'll wish they had someone that actually cared about them!"

Sofie's sympathy disappears. _That was so rude! Why would anyone say that just because they're a little sore over a job?!_

She doesn't say anything, though, and waits for Arlene to reply. But all she says is,

"Just go… You've overstayed you're welcome, Trudy."

And with that, Arlene takes Sofie's arm in viselike grip—Sofie fights the urge to scream aloud when she does this—, and maneuveres around Trudy to continue down the hall. As she passes, Trudy whispers into Sofie's ear urgently,

"Be wary— please! They'll do to you what they've done to everyone else!"

Sofie jerks away from Arlene's grasp and speeds up, completely spooked by the entire thing.

Turning the corner, she stopped her speed walking and leans against the wall as Arlene approaches her. "I hope she didn't frighten you, love. From what I heard from some former students of this house, she's darling."

Sofie just shakes her head as the house mother leads her through one of the doors into a room with plain walls, a bare vanity with a small mirror, and a bunk bed with two seemingly well stuffed mattresses.

"I'll leave you to unpack," says Arlene, placing down her suitcase and turning to leave.

"Err— Thank you! I'm sure I'll be all set," Sofie offers, reaching for the handle of the bag.

Arlene nods, back to her. "When you're all ready, come down and grab a snack. The other four will be coming soon, I believe."

She leaves, shutting the door behind her with a click. The brunette rolls her luggage to the bottom bunk and begins to lay out her belongings. Getting her lime green sheets out, Sofie tucks the corners under the matress, smoothing out the body. Then, she grabs the soft material of her sea green bedspread, laying it out over the bed. Finally, Sofie pulls out of her bag a stuffed cat, worn around the edges, which she then proceeds to hug tightly.

Through her gloves, she feels the soft polyester fur of the cat and is immediately comforted by the feel of it against her fingers.

"Why, hello there, Mouse!" she whispers to the plush toy. "We are going to be happy here, I think."

* * *

><p><em><strong>if you have any questions regarding this story, just ask me. I'll be happy to answer!<strong>_

_**REVIEW! ;D And have a Happy Holiday!**_


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